


England

by Ithiliana



Series: Behind the Scenes [2]
Category: Lord of the Rings RPF
Genre: BDSM, Lotrips - Freeform, M/M, Power Play, Roleplay, Threesome
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-11-26
Updated: 2009-11-26
Packaged: 2017-10-03 19:06:15
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 16,758
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21250
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ithiliana/pseuds/Ithiliana





	England

David/Elijah, David/Andy, David/Viggo, David/Sean, Viggo/Sean, David/Viggo/Sean  
CHAPTER 15:  THE VACATION

Day One/Down

(“To be in with, part of the group or action (as in "he's down with us"). Part of your connection, if you are down with someone.”)

* * * * * * *

David shifted his bag from one shoulder to the other as he left the station, pulling out Sean’s instructions.  He unfolded the half sheet of lined yellow paper and squinted at his handwriting.  Since he’d written it four days ago, he could barely read it by now.

He’d flown in early yesterday, gone straight to a hotel room, and slept.  He wasn’t about to show up at Sean’s suffering from jet lag.  This morning, he’d caught a train north, surprised by how small England seemed.  It always seemed a lot larger in the books.

And here he was.  He found a taxi and read the address out to the driver.  The ride was fairly long, out beyond the city center and the crowded areas.  

David tried to relax in his seat as the taxi went down narrow roads bordered by hedges.  It’d been over a year since Sean’d come to New Zealand, months since he’d seen Viggo.   He hadn’t been at any of the premier events for &lt;i&gt;Fellowship&lt;/i&gt;, of course, which had let Sean and Viggo spend time together.  He was scheduled to attend numerous ones for &lt;i&gt;Two Towers&lt;i&gt; in a few months.  Each of them had been almost immediately involved in other projects, but they’d kept in touch by email and phone and had finally managed to schedule this week’s vacation.

Paying the driver, hauling his bag out of the taxi, David wondered, not for the first time, just how good an idea this was.  Except for the one week Sean had come back to New Zealand during the time David was scheduled for filming, David had been more involved with Viggo.  He knew the two men had an intense and complicated relationship.  By the end of the film, he’d made a start at understanding his relationship with Viggo.  But he didn’t think he understood his relationship with Sean, if any, or that he understood very much about Viggo-and-Sean.

He walked down the narrow road, looking carefully for the brick house Sean had mentioned.    
There it was. He paused a moment, admiring the small but velvety lawn in front, the hedge surrounding it, with a gate leading to the walk. It all seemed so, well, tidy.  English.  

David opened the gate and walked down the flagstone walk to ring the doorbell.

The door opened, and David was suddenly engulfed by Sean who hugged him and pulled him inside.  

“Welcome to England!” Sean took David’s bag from him, dropped it onto the floor, backed him up against the closed door and kissed him, slowly and thoroughly.  

Hands on David’s shoulders, Sean stood back, green eyes gleaming.  “As your host, I can offer you your choice of  three things to do until Viggo arrives.  He’s due in an hour or so.  One, a nice pot of tea.  Two, a nice tour of the local pub.  Three, a nice fuck in the hammock in the garden.”

David laughed.  Sean hadn’t changed a bit, and suddenly the last year melted away along with most of his misgivings.  “I have to choose?” he teased.  “I thought you were giving the orders this week.”

“Oh, that only starts after Viggo arrives.  It’s a little complicated—we can talk about it later.  But yes, you can choose.”  Sean winked.  “This one time.”

David pretended to consider his options for a count of ten, ostentatiously ignoring Sean’s hands which were sliding down his chest.  Just as his fingers reached the waistband of David’s jeans, he spoke.  “I think I’ll choose Three.  But sounds to me as if there’s be time for One as well.”

Sean let go his jeans, grabbed his bag and said “I’ll remember you said that!  Come on, we can dump this in the spare room.”

David followed Sean through the house.  He’d seen it was one story from the road.  The floors were hardwood, dark and glistening, with islands of colorful rugs.  Each room was sparsely furnished, but filled with bookcases which covered most of the walls.  The few walls left bare, usually the exterior ones with windows, were painted white.  

Even the spare room had bookshelves on one wall.  David paused to skim some of the titles, but Sean tossed his bag on the bed and grabbed his arm to pull him out the door.

Going down a short hall, they entered a large kitchen with sliding glass doors leading outside.  The sunshine lay brightly on the floor, highlighting the table and what sat on it. A huge glass vase full of roses, gold and red, lush and heavy, shone like a jewel.  David blinked in the sudden light.  

Sean gestured him through the open door to a garden, quiet in the afternoon heat.  Much larger than the front lawn, this space was surrounded by tall brick walls.  Right outside the door was a brick terrace, with another table and some chairs.  Off to one side, a stone bench sat under a trellis covered with climbing roses.  On other side was a large blue-striped hammock strung on a frame with a canopy.  A fountain played in the center.

But what filled most of the space were rosebushes, a dizzying assault on both scent and vision, gold and white, a dozen shades from crimson to pink, even some variegated ones.  Different sizes, larger ones against the wall, smaller ones in front.  Brick paths through the beds.  Only belatedly did David see containers with other flowers scattered around, blazing with colors not found on the rosebushes such as rich blues and purples.

David just stood and stared.  “This is amazing, Sean.  I remember you talked about gardening, but this...”  David shook his head.  It was hard to find words to describe his response to this place.

“Thanks.”  Sean ducked his head.  

For once, David thought, Sean seemed to have little to say.  David could hardly believe it.  

“It’s incredibly beautiful.  Almost reminds me of Tolkien’s descriptions of Ithilien, though he didn’t mention roses, did he?”

“Not there.  There’s just the one reference to roses as far as I can tell in the whole novel.  In &lt;i&gt;Return of the King&lt;/i&gt;, an old woman in Minas Tirith mentions the roses of Imloth Melui.  She says that the fragrance of the athelas when Aragorn heals Faramir reminds her of the roses she knew as a girl.”

As he spoke, Sean moved closer to David, began to unbutton his shirt.  “Speaking of which, just what were you wearing when Aragorn healed you?” he asked.

“You’ll have to wait for the film to be released,” David said.  “I’m not telling.”  He shrugged off his shirt, kicked off his shoes, and started in on Sean’s buttons.

“Such a tease,” Sean murmured, pulling David close, unzipping his jeans, sliding one hand inside the open pants.

David gasped as Sean’s hand wrapped around him.  “Ten minutes after I ring your doorbell, I’m half naked in your garden, and you’re calling me a tease?”

“Quit talking, get completely naked, and into the hammock,” Sean said.  

“You started it,” David mumbled as he kicked off his jeans and climbed into the hammock.  

Sean slid in beside him.  “Hold this,” he said, handing David a tube, then kissing him.  Their bodies were pressed together as the hammock sagged underneath their combined weight.  The warmth and scents of roses plus Sean added to the motion of the hammock made David feel dizzy.   He slid his arms around Sean, pressed closer for another kiss.

“Shift over a bit,” Sean said, positioning David on his side and reclaiming the tube.  “Ever done it in a hammock before?”

“No,” David said, wiggling back against Sean who rubbed one slick finger against him, then slid it inside.

“Always knew life in the colonies was terrible, but I didn’t understand the extent of your deprivation,” Sean said, pushing his knee between David’s legs.

“Fuck you, Sean,” David said, then gasped as Sean thrust inside him in one quick movement.

“Maybe later, love, if you’re very lucky,” Sean said as he began a slow movement in and out, a movement that was transmitted to the hammock.

David shut his eyes, moving with and to the motion, sensuous and subtle, striking a glow inside that built to a flashpoint of pleasure.

As David came, Sean paused.  A few moments later, he began again, moving harder and faster.

“Jesus, Sean,” David gasped.

“Shhhhhhh.”  Sean’s arms pulled David close, and his teeth closed gently on the flesh of David’s neck, sucking, as he rocked against David, finally coming deep inside.

Slowly, the motion of the hammock dissipated.  Finally, David stirred, feeling the warmth of Sean behind him.  

“Are you sure there’s no time for tea,” he asked plaintively.  “It’s been a long day.”

He felt Sean’s chuckle against his shoulder.  “All right, all right.  Wait here, and I’ll bring it out.”

Sean rolled out of the hammock in one smooth motion, and David let the movement rock him over on his back.

David must have dozed off because he had no sense of time passing between Sean’s leaving and the moment when he heard Viggo’s voice, as smooth and electrifying as ever.

“David?”

David opened his eyes and saw Viggo standing next to the hammock.  Hair shorter than the last time he’d seen him shone reddish gold in the sun.

“Viggo!”  David reached out to Viggo who pulled him smoothly out of the hammock into a bone-crushing hug.  Wordless, they stood there.  

“Come and get your tea,” Sean’s voice interrupted them.  “Or else.”

David pulled back slightly, asking Viggo.  “Should I ask him or else what?”

“Probably not,” Viggo said.  “Not yet anyway.”

* * * * * * *

David carried three beers out to the table.  Viggo and Sean were standing in the kitchen debating the merits of the curry they’d had at Sean’s favorite Indian restaurant. David decided he’d rather enjoy the evening, the roses, and the stars.  He figured if he took the beer with him, they’d eventually follow.

They did, Viggo first, then Sean.  For a while, they sat quietly.  David was trying to make some sense of the northern constellations which he’d read about but never seen when Sean spoke.

“I promised David we’d  explain about the rules once you came.”

“Then either you or David had better—“

“Quiet,” Sean punched Viggo’s shoulder.  Viggo shrugged and drank some of his beer.

“Go ahead then.”

“Two people being dominant at same time might cause problems, so I came up with a brilliant idea—separate spheres.  It’s my house, so I’m top inside.  Viggo gets his turn outside.  David, do you want to have a turn?”

David didn’t have to think twice.  “No, thanks,” he said hastily.  The image that leaped to his mind was a character from mythology, the one who tried to drive Apollo’s horses and was killed.  Probably pulled apart as the horses went their different ways.  

No way could he see himself even pretending to dominate Sean or Viggo, let alone both of them at once.  But, he did have a question.

“Does the garden count as inside or outside?” David asked.

A pause before Sean replied.  “I don’t know.  I didn’t think about it.  Vig?”

“It’s your garden.”

“True, but it’s also outside the house.  What do you think, David?”

Why had he even brought it up, David wondered.  It was outside, but he could see it  as connected to Sean.  Then he thought that they’d probably be inside the house or in the garden more than out in public.  At least he hoped so.  ”Outside,” he said.

“So that’s settled.”  Sean settled back, raised his beer.

David snickered, tried to cover it up with a swallow of beer.  

“What’s so funny?”  Viggo asked.

“I don’t know, just,” David waved his beer bottle around, finished it, set it down.  “Dividing things up like that seems awfully elaborate.”

Viggo rested his hand on David’s arm.  “It’s just another set of rules, on a different level perhaps, than some of the others.  But at heart it’s not so different.  I think you taught me that.”

“And I’d like to know how you did,” Sean said.

“I don’t think I did,” David said, confused.  “I thought it was you, at the hotel that night.”

“Hell, it was probably both of us, right, Viggo?”

“Probably.”  

“So can I ask for something, or does it depend on where we are, or what?” David said.

Sean said, “You can always ask, love.  No guarantees from me beyond that.  What do you want?”

David was glad it was dark.  “I want what we had that first time, you, both of you, holding me down.  Your hands, your bodies, not ropes, nothing else.  I’ve thought about that so many times since...except I want both of you.”

Viggo’s hand tightened on his arm.  

Sean’s voice was gentle.  “Both of us doing what, David?”

David hesitated.

“I want to hear you say it.”

“Fucking me.”

Silence until Sean’s voice, light and smooth, broke it.  “I’d say let’s go, but since we’re in the garden...Viggo.  What do you think?”

“Yes.”  

David realized he was holding his breath, released it in a gasp.  

* * * * * * *

They were in Sean’s room, on the large round bed that commanded the center of the room.   

David was lying on his back, Sean beside him at an angle.  Sean’s hands, large and calloused, were warm on David’s upper arms, his green eyes close to David’s.  “Maybe we need to make this a regular thing.  Or maybe not, maybe I need to make you beg me for it.  What would you do for it, David?”

David smiled up at him, spoke in Faramir’s voice.  “You’ll never know until you try , &lt;i&gt;brother&lt;/&gt;.”

Sean’s mouth descended on his, forcing his lips open for a deep kiss, burning down his spine.

Then, “I’ll try,” Sean promised, “later.”

Viggo’s hands slid up David’s legs, pushing them apart, as Viggo joined them on the bed.  

Positioning himself between David’s legs, Viggo spoke.  “Now?”

“Now.”

David blinked at Sean who smiled down at him.  “I’m adding a little something.  Can’t let you think you can have it all your own way.”

David arched his back as he felt the first cold ring slide onto him, shocking in its suddenness.  Viggo quickly slid three more on, then shifted, bracing himself over David’s thighs, holding him down as his warm mouth closed over David.

The softness of Viggo’s mouth and tongue contrasting with the pressure of the rings shot a wave of  pleasure through David, and he strained against the warm flesh holding him down.  Viggo’s hand slid under him, fingers running up his cleft to circle, teasing, then sliding inside him.  

David gasped, and Sean kissed him, deeply, as David writhed.

Viggo released him, saying, “Help me turn him over.”

David felt himself rolled over, still held down by his arms, his legs spread.  Viggo pressed himself down, into David.  It had been so long, and David tried to push back but could not.  Viggo pinned him, as Sean held his arms, thrusting inside, faster and harder.    

Viggo came faster than David would have expected, and he moaned. feeling the heat inside and Viggo collapsing against him.  

He strained against their hands as they turned him onto his back, trading places, Viggo to hold his arms, Sean bending his legs up, to slide inside slowly, smoothly.  

Sean paused.  “Open your eyes, David.  Viggo likes it.”

David tilted his head back, opening his eyes, as Viggo kissed him.

Sean’s weight pressed him down.  As Sean began a slow stroking in and out, he slipped one hand between them to twist the top ring, then tug it off.  David moaned into Viggo’s mouth, twisting against his hands.  One by one, Sean removed the others, his hand moving around then up and down on David.  As the last ring came off, David convulsed, crying out, coming.

Through a haze of his own pleasure, he felt Sean come as well, collapsing to lie even more heavily on top of David.

When David felt Viggo’s hands leave his arms, he reached over in silent protest, pulling at Viggo, who allowed himself to be tugged down to lie next to David and Sean.

A few minutes later, Sean raised himself, shifted over to lie next to David, one hand on his chest.

“Was that what you wanted?” he asked.

“Ummm-hmmm.”  David, eyes closed, told himself he should be a bit more coherent.  “Incredible.”

“So what do you think we should do tomorrow?”

Viggo sat up, turning around, to pull covers up over them.  “Can we talk in the morning, Sean?  You didn’t have to fly today.”

“Oh, all right.”    
   
David warned them, as he pulled a pillow toward him and rolled out of the large wet spot they’d created.  “You probably won’t like me much in the morning.”

Day Two:  Back to Back

(“A wall that is pieced [by graffitti] from end to end all the way across. Also can refer to throwups that are one after another.”)

From under the pillow, David became aware of voices.

“He told you.  I warned you.”  Viggo.

“I know, but I still can’t believe it.”  Sean.  “David?”

David pulled the pillow further down.   “Nnnnnnnnnnguh,” he managed.

The bed bounced as someone sat next to him.  Poked his shoulder.  “David, wake up.”

David pulled the covers over and up and wrapped them completely around himself while rolling to the other side of the bed.

“Jesus, the hedgehog in my garden is friendlier!  How did he handle early calls?”

“I don’t know.  Lots of coffee?  Elijah told me he didn’t dare talk to him the first hour or two.  I suspect this persona is what he accesses for his thug characters.  Have you seen &lt;i&gt;The Boys&lt;/i&gt;?”

“Nope.  Should I?”

“You’ll get a preview if you drag him out of bed.”

“Hmm.”  

David flinched as Sean’s hand explored under the covers.

“Please, no, please” he begged.

“All right, but you’ll make it up to me later, right?”

“Uh-huh.”

Viggo laughed.  “Come on, love, stop tormenting him.  I think I can keep you entertained for a while, don’t you?”

The bed bounced again as Sean left, and David relaxed as he heard them go down the hall.  Sleep.  Wonderful sleep.  Yes.

* * * * * * *

David sat in the sunshine enjoying his tea and the peace and quiet.  

It was so unfair.   He’d already known that Viggo liked to leap out of bed at dawn and do things.  Fish.  Ride Brego.  Whatever.  But how cruel was fate that Sean seemed to be a member of the breed of people who get up early by choice.  

David shuddered.  He  didn’t mind if people wanted to get up early, he just never understood why they wanted him to get up early as well.  Did he go around pestering them to go back to bed and sleep a while longer?  No.  Did he lecture them on the health benefits of more sleep.  Never.  But most of them felt they had to change his lifestyle.

David poured himself more tea and settled in for more brooding.

“Good morning, sunshine!  Or should I say ‘afternoon’?”

Sean settled down opposite him, beaming.  David glowered at him.  

“Don’t even start,” he warned.

“What?”

“Telling me how much better off I’d be if I got up at dawn, early bird gets the worm, and all the rest of that bullshit.”

“Heavens, Viggo was right.  This is your thug persona.  Not at all.  Sleep as late as you like.  After all, we’re on vacation.”  Sean tilted the lid of the teapot, peered inside, then poured himself a cup.

David swallowed more tea and kept an eye on Sean.  This seemed too good to be true.  There had to be a catch.

Sean tilted his chair back and smiled at him across his tea.  “I just want to find out how you’re going to make it up to me.”

David frowned, then remembered the brief exchange, hardly a conversation, earlier.  “Oh, that.  So in exchange for you letting me sleep in, you want me to—what?”

Sean’s smile grew.  “Oh, I have a particular little fantasy I suspect you might not find too appealing.  But hearing you beg so beautifully, I’ve started to wonder just how far you would go....”

David set his teacup down and rubbed his face.  He should’ve guessed.  In fact he’d nearly promised it to Sean last night.  “You want a Boromir/Faramir scene, don’t you?”

“Uh-huh.”

“All right, but I get to sleep in every morning, without ANY annoying visitors or discussion about it.  And I want to take a long, hot shower first.”

Sean let his chair thump down.  “How could I disagree with either of those?  I’ll see you in, what, half an hour?  An hour?”

David got up and headed for the spare room.  “Half an hour should be fine.”

* * * * * * *

David rinsed the soap off and stood under the stinging hot water.  He was starting to feel almost human.  And interested in finding out what Sean had in mind.  He turned the water off, grabbed a fluffy towel, and dried himself off.  Wrapping the towel around his waist, he went down the hall to the spare room.

Sean and Viggo were waiting for him, Sean near the closet door, Viggo lounging by the door to the hallway.

Sean unlocked the closet and flung the door open with a flourish.  David gaped and walked closer.

Assorted leathers hung next to brightly colored silks and various, well, he supposed you could call them costumes.  But there were also a large range of what David thought would be called accessories leaning up against the or hanging from hooks on the walls, including paddles, whips, restraints of various material.  David wasn’t sure he wanted to know what the five drawers of the built-in bureau contained.

David hated packing and unpacking, so had left his clothes in his bag which he’d tossed on the room’s one armchair.  They’d spent last night in Sean’s bed, so the bed here hadn’t been disturbed.  He hadn’t even thought to try the closet.

“Have you seen this?” he asked Viggo.

“No,” Viggo said, walking forward to get a better look.  “The subject never came up when I was here before.”

“Oh.”  

Sean was inside, searching.

“Here we are!”  He came out with several hangers.

“Holy shit,” David said.  “How did you get those?”

For what Sean was displaying were parts of all their costumes—not complete.  Probably not even Sean could walk off with the handmade chain mail or armor, David thought.  But each hanger had at least tunics in their costumes’ distinctive colors:  Aragorn’s olive green, Boromir’s red, Faramir’s green and brown.  And some other bits as well.

David knew that many people had mementos from the film, he did himself, but this seemed a bit much.

“I had a friend on the costume team,” Sean said.  

“How good a friend?” David asked, still not believing what he was seeing.

“More to the point,” Viggo said, sliding an arm around David, “who’s been wearing them recently?”

“I’m hurt,” Sean said.  “I’ve been saving these for a special occasion.”

David could not resist.  “What, your birthday?  The Gondorian New Year?  Halloween?”

Sean ducked back into the closet.  “If you’re going to be like that, we can just forget about it.  Of course, I’ll probably drag you out of bed every morning at 6 a.m. for nude calisthenics....”

David lunged forward, trying to reach around Sean for the hanger holding his costume.  “Never mind, I’m sorry.  Give me that.  You want Boromir/Faramir, that’s what you’ll get.  But what’s Aragorn going to be doing?”

Sean gave the hanger to David.  “I don’t know.  What ideas does Aragorn have about Faramir, Viggo?”

Viggo smiled.  “I suspect Aragorn has a lot more ideas about Boromir.”

Holding the hanger with his costume, David looked carefully at Viggo but could see nothing beyond his easy smile.  Possibly Viggo’s eyes were a bit more intent on Sean than usual, David thought, but Sean didn’t seem to notice anything.

“Well, we’ll have to talk about that later,” Sean said, hanging Aragorn’s costume back up.  “Right now, it’s just Boromir and Faramir. You can play the audience if you want.”

David sighed and turned back to Sean.  “So, do you want to outline the scenario before or after I get dressed?”

Sean shut the closet door and leaned against it, giving David a leisurely once over.  “Before, I think.”

* * * * * * *

Faramir knocked on the door to his brother’s bedroom.  No answer.  He waited, concerned, then dared to try the door.  It swung open, showing Boromir sitting in a large chair, his back to the door.  

“May I enter?” Faramir asked.

A pause.  Then, Boromir spoke.  “Not if you wish to argue further.  Our father has given me the task of seeking Imladris.”

“I came so that we would not have to part in anger.”

“Then enter.”

Faramir crossed the room to where his brother stood.  Hesitantly, he extended his hand to touch his brother’s arm, feeling the warmth under the smoothness of the rich silk.

“Forgive me for speaking against you to our father.  I feared for you....”

Boromir stood suddenly, shrugging off Faramir’s hand, turning to face him.  “You think I am not fit for this task?”

“No.  Never.  And I will not argue further.  Will you forgive me?”

Faramir stepped forward, setting his hands against Boromir’s chest, leaning forward to kiss his lips, a soft, hesitant brush of the lips at first, then, feeling Boromir’s response, a bolder touch.  

Boromir moved suddenly, arms going around Faramir with bruising strength, mouth suddenly avid as Boromir’s tongue plunged into his mouth.  Faramir opened his mouth, leaned against his brother’s strength.

After a lengthy kiss, Boromir raised his head enough to murmur, “Did you really come here for forgiveness?”

“That, and for your love.”

“It’s been so long—why now?”

Faramir avoided his eyes.  He did not want to tell his brother of his fears relating to the mysterious dream that was sending him on this journey.  “You’re leaving,” is all he would say.  “May I stay with you tonight?”

Boromir’s only answer was another kiss, his hands running under Faramir’s clothing, as he walked him back towards the bed in the center of the room.  

Tangled clothing surrounded them as Boromir pushed Faramir down on the bed, pushing his legs up and apart.  Leaning over Faramir, Boromir simultaneously kissed him and thrust inside, rough in his haste.  Faramir, eyes closed, relaxed, opened to his brother, riding the thrusting higher and higher, excited by his passion, yearning to be closer to the one person who had cared for him throughout his childhood, fearing still for his brother’s life.

* * * * * * *

Applause from the other chair.  

Without moving, still holding David, Sean spoke.  “Don’t push your luck, Viggo.  Unless you want to find out what Boromir really wants to do to Aragorn.”

* * * * * * *

Sean hung both costumes back up in the closet.  

He then pulled out a bundle with dangling straps.  “Remember the sling I mentioned,” he said, turning back to David.  “Here it is.  What do you think—no, not now,” he said, as David backed up a step or two.  “Maybe later.”

David returned to his side, examined the cuffs that hung down from one end.  “Sorry, Sean.  But no.  I don’t want to get into anything I can’t get out of.”

Sean shrugged, tossing the bundle to the back of the closet.  “Can’t blame you for that.”  He shut the door, leaned against it for a minute, staring at the floor.

David wondered what felt different, then realized that not only was Sean not smiling, he was almost frowning.

Then, Sean looked up, lines visible around his startling green eyes .  “But what do you do when you don’t realize until too late that you can’t get out of something?”

Struck by Sean’s tone and the lost look in his eyes, David reached out, pulled Sean close, feeling the tenseness in his body, not knowing what had suddenly happened to change the ground under his feet.  “Sean, what’s—“

“Are you two starting something else, or are you going to get out here before the tea gets cold?” Viggo called from the kitchen.

Sean pulled back, his smile back in full force, calling “We’re coming.”

He grabbed David’s arm and pulled him out of the room.  Unresisting, David followed, wondering.

Day Three:  Top to Bottom

(“A piece that extends from the top of the car to the bottom, completely covering it. Can also refer to a wall or building that has been pieced from top to bottom.”)

“Do you have any plans for this evening?” Viggo asked at lunch.  

Sean said, “Not me.  David?”

“No.”

 “When I saw &lt;i&gt;MacBeth&lt;/i&gt; was playing in town, I called a friend of mine who’s working in the production.  She’s offered me tickets--if you’d like, we could go out to dinner, see the play.”

“Bit of a busman’s holiday, isn’t it?” Sean said.  

“Perhaps.  But, of course, I haven’t explained all my additional rules yet.”  Viggo’s smile widened as he watched them.  

Of course, Viggo was dominant outside, but David hadn’t really expected the game to be taken into public.  He wondered if Sean had.  He poured himself another cup of tea and waited for Sean to speak.

“I see.”  Sean tilted his chair back, balancing easily.  “All right.  What are your additional rules?”

“One, you have to wear whatever I say.  Two, all you can say while we’re out is ‘yes’ or ‘no.’”

David looked at Viggo.  That was too easy.  He had to have something else in mind.

Sean frowned.  “I don’t know.  Strikes me dinner would be bloody boring if you’re the only one who can talk.”

Viggo looked at David who nodded his agreement.  

Viggo opened his hand, conceding.  “Perhaps you’re right.  Then let’s say that rule only starts when we are seated at the play and ends when we’re back in the house.”

Sean looked at David who shrugged.  “Fine with me,” he said.

“All right,” Sean said.  “I’m game.”

* * * * * * *

David showered and went back to the spare room to go through his bag.  He hadn’t brought any formal clothes, but had a pair of slacks and a jacket along with one white shirt.  Viggo came in, approved the slacks and jacket, but chose a black t-shirt instead.  He was wearing a linen suit over a black t-shirt.

“So I suppose we’ll all match,” David said resignedly.

“Sort of.  And this.” Viggo said holding his hand out.

David looked at what he held.  A pile of rings.

“You’re kidding, right,” he said.

“Nope.”  Viggo’s smile broadened.  “I told you I got to pick what you wore.  Sean, too.”

David picked up the rings resignedly.  “You’re the boss.”

“For tonight anyway.”

David sighed and started getting dressed.  Rings first.  It was going to be a long evening.

* * * * * * *

David sat in the pub, concentrating on making his beer last as long as possible.  The last thing he wanted to do was drink so much he would have to go into a public restroom.

Dinner hadn’t been so bad.  He could sit back in his chair, legs apart, doing yoga breathing.  Plus, the checked tablecloths on all tables fell to the floor, and the tables were large enough so that Viggo couldn’t reach either him or Sean unobtrusively.  And he’d been able to talk.  

Things changed rapidly when they reached the theatre.  Viggo claimed the middle seat which meant that as soon as the lights went down, Viggo’s hand had moved to David’s knee and began inching up his thigh.  Yoga breathing didn’t help much at that point.  

After Viggo’s hand settled between his thighs, David spent most of  the play concentrating on not falling out of his seat and curling up on the floor.  Judging from the creaking seat on the other side of Viggo, Sean was having the same problem.  

As a result, David couldn’t remember  much about the production.  Witches.  Kings.  Fighting.  Right.  Not that it mattered, he thought, taking a small sip of beer.  He couldn’t say anything about it anyway.

David was just now understanding the full import of Viggo’s rules for this game although he thought the second one was mostly aimed at Sean.  Since the no-talking rule was still in force, the only person who could say anything except ‘yes’ or ‘no’ was Viggo. And he was taking full advantage of it.  

After another round of yoga breathing, David had found himself able to sit fairly comfortably. The lights in the pub and the people around more or less precluded any sustained physical contact, and he was able to relax slightly.  But judging from the fidgeting Sean was doing, he was finding the restraints to be pure misery.  And, David thought, not being able to talk was probably the worst.

Viggo had evaluated the production in detail, including costumes, makeup, lighting, casting, sets, and staging, and had then moved onto a comparison of this production with the five others he’d seen.  

David didn’t mind listening and agreeing now and then.  He avoided staring directly into Viggo’s eyes, which had unfortunate results, but he’d always thought he’d be able to enjoy listening to Viggo even if all he was doing was reading the telephone book out loud.  

Viggo was now discussing the issue of Tolkien’s attitudes about Shakespeare’s plays, especially &lt;i&gt;MacBeth&lt;/i&gt;.  He was arguing for a connection between Tolkien’s disappointment with how Shakespeare had cheated when it came to the prophecy about the moving wood and Tolkien’s construction of the Ents and Huorns, a moving wood which came to Helm’s Deep and made a decisive difference in that battle.  

Sean kept opening and then closing his mouth as well as shifting back and forth in his chair.  David wondered if Sean would be able to make it.  Taking another cautious sip of beer, he carefully settled further back in his chair and drew a deep breath.  It had been a long evening, and it wasn’t over yet.

* * * * * * *

The three arrived back at Sean’s house near midnight.  Pausing at the gate, Viggo said, “Why don’t we spend some time in the garden.  &lt;i&gt;Outside&lt;/i&gt; in the garden.”

David winced in anticipation as Sean opened his mouth, but relaxed as he only said, “Yes.”    
Sean’s voice was a lot closer to a growl than David would’ve liked, but at least there wasn’t going to be a confrontation in the street.

Viggo gestured them to go ahead of him. David followed Sean around the hedge to the back wall where Sean unlocked a narrow door that let them into the garden.

David and Sean stepped through, Viggo following, and walked along the brick path.  As they approached the terrace, Viggo stopped them by placing a hand on each of their shoulders.  

“It’s such a nice warm evening.  Don’t you feel a bit overdressed?”

Without answering, David shrugged out of his jacket.  

Sean turned to face Viggo, shrugging his hand off, folding his arms, tilting his head, as he spoke.  “No.”

“I do.  Get undressed.”

David had draped his jacket and t-shirt over one of the chairs and his pants nearly off before Sean moved to obey Viggo.

When they were both naked, Viggo kissed Sean, then walked him over to the bench under the rose trellis.  “Kneel down,” he said.  After Sean knelt, Viggo pushed him down over the bench, pushing his arms forward to touch the ground on the other side.  “Stay here,” he said.

He came to David and kissed him.  David moaned, the kiss after the earlier contacts in the theatre resulting in painful pressure.

Viggo pulled his arm gently, walked him over to the bench and, to David’s surprise, had him kneel next to Sean.  Leaning well over the bench, his arms in front of him, David could feel Sean’s warmth all along his side.

One of Viggo’s hands settled on David’s back, and David felt Viggo kneeling behind him, pushing his legs apart. Viggo’s hands settled on David, rubbing, his fingers running down his cleft.  David squirmed, uncomfortable from pressure on his erection trapped between his belly and the cool stone bench. One slick finger slipped inside, rubbing and twisting.  Then Viggo’s hands disappeared.

David could feel Sean suddenly tense beside him, and realized Viggo had moved to Sean.  This was getting a little weird.  

A few moments later, David felt Viggo behind him again, hands holding his hips, as he thrust inside.  But just as David was beginning to sense the rhythm, to move in response, Viggo pulled out, moving away.  To Sean.

David clenched his fists and gritted his teeth to avoid breaking the rules.  Since he and Sean were pressed together, he could feel Sean’s response when Viggo pulled away.

Back to David.  Who tried to thrust back, despite Viggo’s hold on his hips, tried to push beyond the pressure of the rings, who was frustrated on all levels and starting to ache all over.  Back to Sean.  

After a couple of more of Viggo’s switches, David was sweating and trembling, and could feel Sean was in a similar state.  This was possibly the most frustrating experience he’d ever had.  David started fantasizing about punching Viggo once they were inside....maybe Sean would hold Viggo for him.

Viggo’s hands moved to his shoulders and pulled him upright, shifting to grip his upper arms. Then Viggo tugged him back and moved him over until he was kneeling behind Sean, between his spread legs, Viggo kneeling behind him.

“Go on, David,” Viggo’s voice was warm in his ear.  

David hesitated, unsure, as Viggo pressed him forward.  David caressed Sean’s back, ran his hands down over his flanks and thighs, hesitant.  Sean moaned, arching his back, and David positioned himself carefully and, gently, began to push inside Sean.  

Impatient, Sean thrust his hips back.  The warmth and tightness of Sean, the pressure from the rings, and the warmth of Viggo at his back, intoxicated David, who began to thrust harder.  His hands slipped off Sean, and he braced them against the stone bench, pumping harder and harder, pushing, trying to move even deeper.  As Sean twisted under him, David, remembering, slipped his hand under to turn, then pull the rings off Sean one at a time.  

Sean bucked under him, crying out, tightening, and David thrust deeper, curling around Sean, as he felt himself come against the pressure, hard and fast.  He clung to Sean as if to a lifeline, feeling Viggo hot and hard behind him.

After a few minutes, Viggo gently pulled David aside, letting him lean on the bench.  When Sean stirred, Viggo held him down, moving forward, thrusting inside, pumping , finishing quickly.

Nobody said anything for some time.

Then, “Shall we go inside?”  Viggo said, rising and taking his clothes from the table.

Sean leaped to his feet and was at the door before David could stand.  David picked up Sean’s clothes as well as his own, and followed him.  Sean yanked his pants out of David’s hand, pulled the key out, dropped the pants and stomped inside.  David picked them up and followed him in.

As Viggo came through the door, Sean grabbed him by the shoulders and shoved him up against the wall.

“YOU GODDAMN ARROGANT FUCKHEADED SHIT WHAT THE HELL DID YOU THINK YOU WERE DOING YOU ARE SO MISERABLY TWISTED THAT YOUR HEAD MUST BE PERMANENTLY UP YOUR ASS.”

David stared in disbelief as Viggo laid a hand against Sean’s cheek, smiled, and said, “Was my scene just a little too much for you to take, love?”

“You couldn’t come UP with any SCENE that would be too much for ME, you you SHIT.  But dragging me to a play and then expecting me not to say anything while you bullshit on and on and......on...”  

Sean’s voice trailed off as first Viggo then David started to laugh.  Finally, he grinned as well though he did not release Viggo.

“All right.  You win. This time.”  He paused, still holding Viggo firmly. Then he braced one arm against Viggo’s throat and moved close, until their bodies touched their full length.  He kissed Viggo deeply and slowly.  “But I’m going to remember this.  Let’s go to bed.”

As Sean released Viggo and they moved away from the door, David handed Sean’s clothes to him and followed them to the bedroom.

  
Day Four:  Burn

(“To beat the competition with your style. Also refers to a really good piece, as in one that ‘burns’.”)

David woke suddenly and completely in the middle of the night.  He rolled over, resting his head on his folded arms, watching the moon through the thin curtains.  This often happened to him when he traveled, not right at the start when it would actually make sense because of changing time zones, but a few nights later.

The night before, Sean had suggested dropping the games for a day  and going to London to sightsee.  David had agreed, even volunteering to get out of bed early, not only because this was his first time in England but because he hadn’t been sure what would happen if they’d stayed in the house.  Viggo hadn’t raised any objection, just made sure he had extra film for his camera.

It had been a busy day, going to the British Museum and the Tower, watching the changing of the Guard at the Palace, Sean playing host to colonial visitors.  Without discussing it, they’d steered clear of the theatre district, and nobody mentioned going to any plays.  Or any theories about plays.  

They ended up in Trafalgar Square, lost in the crowds.  Viggo and David were seeing who could attract and feed the most pigeons while Sean was taking pictures.  Viggo had handed Sean his camera.   After bitching about the mechanism, he’d settled down and began imitating Viggo taking pictures.  David was losing the pigeon contest because he kept laughing at Sean’s poses.

But Sean was the one who had first noticed a young woman watching them from nearby.  She was wearing a flowing white dress and Arwen’s Evenstar necklace.  Her black hair fell below her waist, and she was holding the hardback edition of the complete &lt;i&gt;Lord of the Rings&lt;/i&gt;, the one that featured the Nazgul on the cover.  When Sean gestured her over, the delight on her face made it clear she’d recognized Sean and Viggo at first glance, and their conversation made it clear she had read about his role as well.

Outside Australia, where he was well known because of  &lt;i&gt;Diver Dan&lt;/i&gt;, David had the privilege of anonymity.  Even Viggo and Sean, without makeup and costumes, had not drawn any attention in the crowds of London.  This encounter made him wonder about what would happen in the future.  

This young woman had come from Canada.  They’d talked about the book, and the film, and they’d all signed their names at the start of key chapters for each of their characters.  Today’s encounter had been pleasant enough.  

But he’d seen coverage of the premiers and the various fan events around the world on television. A friend had told him about the growth of the fan activities on the internet. The first film had gotten all the attention any of them could have hoped, and he wondered how difficult it would be to deal with the pressure when &lt;i&gt;Two Towers&lt;/i&gt; was released, and then &lt;i&gt;Return of the King&lt;/i&gt;.  

David shifted, sure he wouldn’t be able to sleep now, wondering if he’d be able to get back to sleep or if he should just try to sneak out of bed without waking the others and find a book to read.  He could use the spare room.

“Can’t sleep?”  Viggo’s voice was low, almost a whisper, but David jumped and nearly fell out of bed.  

He turned his head to look at Viggo and remembered to whisper back.  “How do you DO that?”

“What?”  Viggo’s warm hand ran down his back, and he moved closer to David, leaned up on one arm.

“This—waking up like this!”

“Oh.  Light sleeper.”

“Isn’t that a pain sometime?”

“Sometimes.  Sometimes it’s an opportunity.”  Viggo’s hand ran down and over David’s rear.  “Why are you awake at this hour?”

“I was thinking about the response to the film, the publicity and media coverage, all the stuff to deal with.  How do you handle it?”

Viggo shifted, his hand falling away.  ”It’s hard. There’s lots of advice out there, but it’s hard to follow.  I try not to take the public stuff seriously.  The media, even some of the fans, want a performance, so you develop a public persona. Too much time spent in that persona means you lose your sense of self.  You have to have your own space, however that’s defined.  Like John with his boats in New Zealand.  I go to Idaho.  Sean--well, look at his garden.  But you must know some of this--after &lt;i&gt;Diver Dan&lt;/i&gt;.”

“That’s just Australia.  Nobody takes being famous in Australia that seriously.  This is worldwide,” David said..

The bed bounced as Sean rolled over.  ”Is this a private thing or can anybody join in?”  

David saw his head, pale hair standing on end, appear behind Viggo’s shoulder.

“What kinky things are you two doing?”

Sean grunted as Viggo’s elbow hit him.  “Talking,” Viggo said.

“You’ve got to be kidding.  It’s the middle of the bloody night, and isn’t this the bloke who didn’t want to be disturbed before noon?”

David said, “Sorry, it’s my fault.  I woke up, couldn’t sleep.”  

“What were you talking about?”  Sean sounded more awake every moment.  

“About the response to the film,” Viggo began.

“It’s great, isn’t it.  And the fans just love me.  You saw her today.  She adored me.  And I put my name in a GOOGLE search and got over 50,000 hits.” Sean said.

“And the pressures.  How to deal with them.”  Viggo said.

“Ah well,” Sean said.  “I have the answer to that.”

“What?” David asked.

“Sex.  Lots of sex.”  He grabbed Viggo who responded by twisting and shoving Sean nearly out of bed.  

David thought about moving out of the way but had no chance before Viggo pounced on him and dragged him into the middle of the wrestling match that had begun in the middle of the bed.  His last coherent thought was that there were probably worse ways to deal with the pressure.

  
Day Five:  Kill  
(“To hit or bomb excessively. To really get up in a major way.”)

David got out of the shower when the hot water ran out.  Since he was always the last one up, Sean having kept his promise, he didn’t feel guilty about using it all up.  Drying himself off and pulling on a pair of shorts, he wandered down the hall to the kitchen, enjoying the coolness of the floor beneath his bare feet.  A little before noon.  Perfect.

He made himself tea and some toast. When he got the milk out of the fridge, he saw a note Sean had left on the door under a New Zealand magnet.  “Gone shopping, back soon.”   David walked to the open glass doors and saw Viggo sitting at the table, writing, intent on the lined pages of the notebook he always carried.  

David finished his breakfast, stood for a moment, thinking.  Sean out.  Viggo in garden.  Hammock.  That had certain possibilities.  Easier if Viggo wasn’t writing.  David had seen him sit for a full hour during a lunch break, ignoring all the chaos around him and his lunch, to write.  So strategy was needed.  

First things first.  He ducked back down the hall to the bathroom and found what he needed.  Then back to the kitchen to consider his approach.

Somehow he didn’t think subtle was his best choice.  David pulled off his shorts and draped them over the back of a kitchen chair.  Then he strolled out into the garden.  As he thought, he had to pass right in front of Viggo to get into the hammock which meant Viggo had a clear sightline to the hammock and thus to whoever was lying in it.

“Morning,” he said cheerfully.

Viggo grunted.  

“Perfect day to lie around in a garden, no?”  David reached the hammock, rolled in, and sprawled on his back, one arm under his head.  No response from Viggo, but David knew it took a while for whatever was happening to percolate down through the writer’s fog.  He started counting.

About a minute and a half later, Viggo raised his head.  David, watching through half-closed eyes, could see a faint frown.

“Why are you suddenly so cheerful at--” Viggo started, then cut himself off as he saw David.  The frown disappeared to be replaced by a smile.  Viggo carefully capped his pen and set it down, then rested his chin on his folded hands.  No other movement.

David dropped one foot out of the hammock to push against the ground and start it swinging.  

“What, me, cheerful?” he said, ever so innocently.  “Vile slander.”

A pause.  David swung and Viggo watched.  

David waited.  Viggo didn’t go back to writing, so he figured it was just a matter of time.  Finally, Viggo said, “Did you book that hammock for a single or can anybody join in?”

“Well,” David said, “since we’re outside, I don’t think I have any say in the matter.  I’m at your mercy.”  He waited a beat.  “Although you might be somewhat overdressed.”

“Ah.  True.”  

Viggo rose, closing his notebook.  Shedding his jeans and t-shirt, he walked to the hammock.  David scrunched over as Viggo rolled in, the hammock sagging.

Viggo slid one arm under David’s shoulders, put his other hand on David’s chest, kissing him gently at first, teasing David’s lips with his tongue.  David opened his mouth hungrily, trying to press closer, but Viggo held him down as the kiss deepened, burning between them.  Then Viggo pulled away, leaving David gasping for air.

“I think the rules might require punishment rather than reward for so......forward a submissive.”  Viggo’s hand slid down David’s chest.

“I have no idea what you mean,” David protested, arching up to meet Viggo’s hand.  “All I wanted was a little nap in the hammock, and...”

Viggo’s mouth cut David off.

A few moments later, Viggo mumbled against David’s neck, “Whether you meant it or not, we don’t have any lube, and I’m not stopping now, so...”

His voice trailed off as David opened his free hand to show him the tube he’d gotten from the bathroom before leaving the house.

Viggo rolled his eyes and sighed.  “OK--you win. Give me that.”

The hammock swayed a few minutes later as Viggo slid halfway under David, pushing his hips up and over, positioning himself, half thrusting inside, half letting David’s weight pull him down onto Viggo.  One of Viggo’s arms circled David’s chest, and, as they rocked together, his other hand circled lower on David’s belly, folding around him, rubbing.  

David felt almost weightless, held only by Viggo’s arms, floating in mid-air.  He closed his eyes, enjoying the easy way their bodies fit together, the slow build of pleasure inside, spiraling up in lazy circles, their climax intense but quiet like the sudden warmth of a spring shower that comes without warning out of a sunny sky.  

* * * * * * *  

Sean came out of the house and walked to the hammock where David was sleeping.  

“David?”  

David opened his eyes to see Sean holding his shorts out with a quizzical look on his face.

“Apparently I missed something?”

David stretched, smiled at Sean.  “I was outside, so what could I do but submit?”

Sean smiled back. “Except that your shorts were inside.”  He tossed them to David.  “Oh, well.  Could you come inside a minute?  I have an idea I wanted to talk to you about.”

David rolled out of the hammock and pulled his shorts on.  He looked at Viggo who was hunched over the table, writing, his back to the hammock, and grinned.  “What about Viggo?”

“We don’t need him right now, so I don’t want to bother him. Come on.”

David got up and followed Sean into the house, back into the spare room.  There, Sean opened the closet door, started rummaging inside. He came out holding a tangle of black straps.  

“I understand why you don’t want the sling.  But what about this?”

David stared at it.  “What is it?”

“It’s easier to show you.  Take your shorts off?”

David shrugged, slid them off, stood naked in front of Sean.  

“Here, put your hands up, just stand there, let me....there you go.  Now it just need adjusting, it’s one size fits all.”

David stood quietly while Sean shook the tangle out and slid it over his arms and head, smoothing it over his body.  Unfurled, the tangle turned out to be an arrangement of straps that fit around his throat, down over his arms, torso, and onto his thighs.  Made out of smooth leather, the straps felt cool against his skin.  

Sean moved around him, adjusting the fit of individual straps which had Velcro attachments.   “Not quite done, but no point if you don’t like it.  How’s that?”

David swung his arms, twisted, feeling no sense of constriction.  

“Turn around, look in the mirror.”

David did.  Black straps stood out against his skin, a shocking contrast.  What could only be called a harness covered approximately as much of his body as Faramir’s leather breastplate had, but created a different effect.  The breastplate had covered and protected the vulnerable body, presenting a hard surface that resisted penetration.  The image had been that of an armored warrior.  

This arrangement of leather straps mocked any sense of protection by revealing more than it concealed.  Bands around his throat, chest, waist, and thighs were linked together by straps which served no functional purpose.  The harness allowed easy access to every part of his body.  The effect was of simultaneous containment and vulnerability.  
   
David swallowed hard, feeling a twist of excitement start deep within.

Sean stood close behind him, smoothed his hand over his shoulder, down his back.  “Do you like it?”

David nodded, licking his lips.

“Do you want to play?”

“What?  How?”

“Moving the dominance/submission relationship out of the bedroom, playing out a master/slave scenario the rest of the day.   You can still stop everything with the safeword, but while we’re playing, you have to follow my commands, be totally submissive.”

David looked at his image in the mirror again, ran his hands over his body, feeling the leather warm against his skin, imagining what some of those commands might be.  

“Yes,” he said.

“Great---just a couple more things and we’re ready.”  Sean adjusted other straps just above David’s elbows, immobilizing his arms.  “Look, you just have to reach over to pull these open.  You can get out if you want.”

David tried and found Sean was right, that he could undo the straps over each arm if necessary, so let him replace the bindings that held his arms at his sides.   Then Sean pulled a leash out of the closet and looped it around the band that circled David’s neck.  

“Can you breathe?” he asked.  

David nodded.

Sean’s posture changed as he moved closer, holding the leash, and his voice took on additional authority.  “Here are the rules.  First, you keep your eyes down unless ordered otherwise. Second, unless you are given permission to speak, the only words I want to hear are ‘yes, master’ or ‘no, master.’  And, finally, you follow my orders immediately.  Understand?”

David dropped his eyes, said, “Yes, master.”

Sean took the leash and led David across the room, to stand beside the bed.  “Wait for me here, on your knees.  

David dropped to his knees.

Sean disappeared into the closet.  When he came out, David could see his lower legs were encased in black leather.  

Sean sat down on the bed, legs spread, reached out and tugged David around until he was kneeling between Sean’s legs.  

Sean slipped his hand under David’s chin to tip his face up.  David could now see that all Sean was wearing was the tight leather pants.  

“You have my permission to speak,” Sean said.  “Tell me why you chose ‘tequila’ as a safeword.”

David kept his eyes on Sean’s though he could feel himself turning red.

“Elijah and I had a fight one week.  I was at the pub, drinking tequila,” he said.  “And after four or five shots, Andy showed up.  We talked a while, then left.  I think I more or less propositioned him, and, well, he took me up an alley, and we had sex.”

Sean’s hand caressed David’s face.  “Very nice. And?”

David drew a deep breath and went on.  “Afterwards, I ran into Viggo.  I was sort of lost at that point, and he took me home.  I more or less propositioned him as well.  I think.”

Sean’s laugh was bright and infectious, and David didn’t feel quite so embarrassed to finish.

“Anyway, he said something to the effect that it was a flattering invitation, but he was turning it down because I was drunk, and Elijah was breaking my heart.”

“I love it—but he didn’t know about Andy?”

“Not then.  I think....Andy talked to him later.”  David was sure of it, but didn’t want to have to tell that story.

“That’s been bugging me ever since that night in the hotel.”  Sean stood, caressed David’s head.  “Stand up.”

David managed to get to his feet, though it was hard to do without being able to move his arms and without bumping into Sean.  Sean kissed him once, deeply, took the leash, and said “Remember the rules.”  

David looked down and followed Sean out the door and down the hall to the kitchen.  Sean positioned David in front of the glass doors, moving him back and forth, glancing out the door to where Viggo sat, writing.  Finally satisfied, Sean said, “Lift your head.”  

David did.

“Stay there,” Sean ordered, then went to the door.    

He slid the door open.  Sean stood well off to the right, out of what would be Viggo’s direct line of sight, and spoke.  “You want anything, Viggo?”

After a moment, Viggo looked up.  Silence.  

David breathed faster, seeing the expression on Viggo’s face. He stood and came straight to the kitchen, moving quickly.

As he entered, he spoke, his voice lower and huskier than usual.  “My God, David.”

David felt himself hardening even before Viggo reached out and pulled him close with one arm, his hand around David’s throat, as it had been that night in New Zealand, holding his head still for a kiss.  

David gasped, his mouth open to Viggo, drowning in the kiss, the feel of hard callused hands on his throat and back.  

“Very nice, but you’re breaking the rules, Viggo.”

David could feel Viggo tense, then, slowly, release him.  

Sean stepped between them, tapping David’s cheek.  “Rules, love,” he warned.  David hastily looked down, and Sean moved him back a few feet, then turned to Viggo.

“A new game, Viggo.  You don’t get to touch David without my permission.  Inside the house.  And David cannot do anything unless I order him to.”

Viggo was silent.

Sean leaned forward, kissed Viggo.  “But I’m not unwilling to give permission. And if you’re very very good, I might let you take him outside to the garden.  For a nice little walk.  But for now, don’t you think you’re a little overdressed?”

“Perhaps.”  Viggo’s voice was low, controlled.  “I’m sure you could suggest something.”

“It’s hanging in the spare room.  See you in a few minutes.”

David watched Viggo’s legs leave the room, Sean’s approach.

David kept his eyes firmly down as Sean tugged on the leash.  

“Those of us who were up before noon might appreciate a bite of lunch first.  So let’s start with that.”

David followed Sean to the kitchen table where he pushed the vase of roses to one side.  “Here, on your knees.”

David dropped down beside one of the chairs.  With his eyes down and his back to the kitchen, he could not see what Sean was doing, but heard cupboard and the refrigerator doors opening and closing..  

Plates and glasses were set on the table.  David shifted his weight.  Eventually a plate of sandwiches and a bowl of fruit appeared.

“Very nice, love.  I knew that was just your color.”

David tried to look behind him without moving, but failed.  

“You sit there.”  Sean’s voice was very cheerful.

Viggo didn’t say anything, but came around the table and sat opposite the chair David was kneeling beside.  He was wearing tight leather pants, as Sean was, but this pair was a dark blue, cut extremely low and tight.  David thought that they might be uncomfortable to wear, but he couldn’t deny how hot Viggo looked in them.  

Sean came to the table, set a beer at Viggo’s place, and paused to tilt his head back and kiss him, long and slow and deep, his hand running down his chest.  David was careful to keep his eyes down, but from where David knelt, the angle was right for David to see everything, including the bulge in Viggo’s pants.  

“Ummm, a lovely appetizer,” Sean said, releasing Viggo and coming back around the table to sit next to David.  “And now, how about some lunch?  Help yourself, Viggo.”  Sean passed the plate of sandwiches across the table.

David concentrated on keeping his eyes down and trying to unobtrusively shift his weight on the hardwood floor when his knees started aching.

“David, you hungry?”

David hesitated.  He wasn’t all that hungry, but he figured Sean would prefer a yes to a no.

“Yes, master,” he said.

“Here.”  Sean’s hand with a piece of sandwich appeared in front of his face.  David mentally shrugged and let Sean feed him bits of sandwich.  Then, Sean offered him a banana.

With difficulty, David restrained his first response.  Snickering probably didn’t count as properly submissive.  He considered the banana a moment, then bit down on the top stem.  It was hard and bitter, but he was able to break it, awkwardly, then pull the peel down on one side.  Sean rotated the banana for him so he could pull the peel on the other side down.

What the hell, David figured as Sean presented him with the peeled banana.  Might as well play it for all it was worth.  Keeping his eyes properly lowered, he began to slowly lick up and down the banana, swirling his tongue around the top, then sucking it into his mouth.  He bobbed his head up and down, then pulled back a moment to breathe.  

He could hear Sean’s breathing quicken.

Pausing for a calculated beat, David then bit off a piece of the banana, large enough to count but small enough that he could chew and swallow it quickly.  As he chewed, he looked up and stared directly at Sean who stared back, his mouth open, but failed to reprimand him for breaking the rules.

Viggo snorted, then started laughing.  After a moment, Sean did the same and tossed the banana aside.

Satisfied, David dropped his eyes again, biting down on his inner cheek and ordering himself not to grin.

A pause, then Sean spoke.  “Viggo, get the bottle from the counter.  And the glass.”

Viggo did.  David heard clinking sounds, and then Sean’s hand appeared in front of him again.  “Chin up, David.”

David raised his head, seeing the shotglass full of gold liquid in front of him.  Sean nudged the glass up against his lips.  David opened his mouth and tilted his head back, drinking the tequila slowly, feeling it burn all the way down.

Licking his lips, David watched while Sean poured himself one and tossed it down, then filled the shotglass and offered it to Viggo.  Viggo drank that one, but refused the offer of a second.  Sean filled the glass again, raised it to David’s lips, and watched him drink it.

Sean recapped the bottle and set it aside, next to the vase of roses.  Then he stood.  Picking up the leash, he ordered David to stand.  “Shall we move to the parlor, gentlemen,” he said, and led the way.  David followed, head already buzzing from the tequila.

In the other room, Sean had Viggo sit at one end of the large couch that was one of the three items of furniture in the room.  Then he told David to sit next to Viggo but to keep his eyes down.  Sean then shoved the low table that sat in front of the couch a few feet out and sat next to David.

Sean turned sideways, one arm around David’s shoulders and his other hand on David’s thigh.

“I asked David to explain his choice of ‘tequila’ as a safeword.  But I have a question for you, Viggo.  Do you regret refusing David that night?”

David was glad he couldn’t see Viggo’s face.  

When Viggo finally spoke, his voice sounded normal, and David relaxed a fraction.

“No.”

“Why not?”

“Two reasons.  First, he was very drunk, and I don’t believe in exploiting that situation.”

David could feel himself turning red even now as he remembered that night.

Sean said, “And the second?”

“What happened a couple of weeks later when he wasn’t drunk left no room for regrets.”

David scrunched down on the couch and shut his eyes.  He was sure he was turning the approximate color of a lobster.  

“Really?”  Sean moved even closer to David, “I’d like to hear about that.  Tell me all.”

“No.”

“Well, then, David...”

David ducked his head lower, pulling away from Sean.  He did not want to talk about that night, not like this.  And he didn’t know if anybody had ever used a safeword just to avoid talking, but he’d rather do that than--

Viggo spoke, almost casually.  “And the next time we’re outside, I’m sure you won’t mind telling David all about our first time.”

A pause, then Sean leaned back.  “Oh.  I see.”  A longer pause, then, “You’re right.  I’m sorry.”

A few moments passed and David was able to open his eyes again.

Sean leaned forward, tilted David’s face up, kissed him on the cheek, and asked him, “Would you like to reward Viggo with a nice blow job?”

David grinned and relaxed, glad of a question he could answer.  “Yes, master,” he said.

“All right.  Go on, then.  Viggo, you still can’t touch him.”

David slid off the couch onto his knees.  Viggo slid down a bit, spreading his legs, so David could move between them.  David could see that the leather pants tied at the waist, but he had no use of his hands.  He glanced up at Viggo who smiled back at him, not moving, and since one of his arms was around Sean, who had moved closer, it was obvious neither one of them was going to help.  David bit his lip, thinking.

“David,” Sean said, seriously.  “Please keep in mind that this is not a banana.”

David dropped his eyes again, biting down even harder to keep from laughing.  “Yes, master.”

He shuffled forward a bit and leaned over until he could bite down on one end of the tie and pull it open.  The bowtie came loose easily, and the pants fell open.  Viggo’s erection was clearly visible, and David pressed forward, trying to brace himself against the edge of the couch, and Viggo, rather than support his own weight.  Viggo helped by shifting down, bringing his knees in close to  brace David.

David nuzzled closer, licking slowly, up and down, teasing at the tip with his tongue.  Viggo’s hips jerked, and he hardened even more.  David then slowly worked his mouth down, sucking, harder, pressing his chin down, tilting his head back.  He thought that the angle might be about right for more than a blow job.  

In his peripheral vision, he could see that Sean was kissing Viggo, holding his shoulder.  Sucking harder, David pressed forward.  When Viggo thrust this time, David relaxed his throat, let him slide all the way down.  Viggo’s legs tightened, and he increased his thrusts.  As David timed his breathing around Viggo’s movements, he soon came, crying into Sean’s mouth.

David sank down, a bit breathless, resting his head on Viggo’s thigh.  He felt a warm hand on his head.

“Very, very nice,” Sean murmured.

Sean slid off the couch, pulled David to his feet, kissed him slowly and intensely, tongue probing deep.  Then, “Lie down on the couch,” he said.  “Face up..for now.”

David sat down, turned a bit, lifted his feet and lay down, his head toward Viggo. Sean knelt down beside the couch to undo and reposition two of the straps.  He pressed David’s erection down between his thighs, shifting the straps over it and binding his thighs together . David squirmed under his hands, and Sean tilted him slightly to slap his rear, the noise ringing loudly in the silent room.

David jacknifed up, propelled by rage, forcing out “tequila!” through gritted teeth.

Sean held his hands up over his shoulders, leaning away from the couch.

“No hitting, no slapping, no punching,” David ground out, glaring at Sean, bracing himself against the back of the couch.

“I’m sorry, David.” Sean said, moving back, increasing the distance between them.  “I didn’t mean to break your rules.  I didn’t understand.  I remember you said no wounding, but I didn’t realize that included the other things.”

David sank back down on the couch until he was more or less sitting, knees bent, his head resting on his knees.  He made himself breathe deeply, let go of his anger.  It probably was a misunderstanding, but. he had to be sure.

“We can stop the whole thing if you want,” Sean said, standing up and taking several steps back.

David breathed for a moment longer, then raised his head to look at Sean.  Sean looked concerned, and David believed that he was willing to stop now.  

David shook his head.  “No, we can go on.  As long as you understand.”

“No slapping, no hitting, no punching, no wounding, no bloodletting--the whole thing.  I promise.”

“All right.”  David felt Viggo’s hand warm on his back.

“Are you sure?” Viggo asked.  

David, remembering the look on Viggo’s face when he’d seen him in the kitchen, trembled, pushed back against his hand.  “I’m sure,” he said.  

Sean moved forward, and both he and Viggo gently moved David back down on the couch.  Sean turned him over to lie on his belly, checking twice to make sure he could breathe easily.

For some time, Sean knelt next to him, hand under the harness, rubbing his upper back gently. David almost purred, feeling his heartbeat slow and his muscles relax.

“OK?” Sean whispered into his ear.

“Yes, master,”  David smiled at him.

Sean moved down the couch, trailing his hand slowly down David’s back, over his rear, down his thighs and legs, to his ankle.  A pause, David’s foot was lifted so Sean’s warm mouth could encircle his little toe. David jumped as Sean’s tongue swirled around, and he sucked hard, moving from one toe to the next, then picking up David’s other foot and sucking the toes, one at a time,   

Then, the tongue slowly traced a wandering trail up the sole of David’s foot.  David, ticklish, tried to yank his foot away, but Sean’s fingers were firm around his ankle.

Inch by inch, kissing and nibbling, Sean moved up David’s calf, settling down for some time in the spot behind his knee.  As Sean’s tongue circled there, David felt his erection straining against the strap, and he tried to twist against the couch, but could not get any friction against the smooth fabric.   

He relaxed a moment when Sean’s mouth released him, but then felt it behind his other knee, Sean’s hands firmly holding his legs down.   Finally, Sean began the long trip up David’s thighs.   David tensed as he moved upward, and Sean paused.  “Viggo, hold his shoulders down,” he said.  

David felt the couch move as Viggo shifted position, then his warm hands came down on David’s shoulders.  David shut his eyes, shuddering, as he felt Sean’s tongue between his thighs.  Then he moaned as Sean pulled back, started pressing a trail of kisses up his rear, pausing a moment when he came to the spot he’d slapped, pressing a longer, gentler kiss there.  Then further up, Sean murmuring “dimples” as he swirled his tongue around each one.  David, growing desperate, tried to arch back, but Sean’s arms came down on his upper thighs and lower back, holding him down.  

Moments passed while, as far as David could tell from the shifts in weight and the sounds, Viggo and Sean exchanged a long kiss.

With no warning beyond a shift in weight, Sean returned to David, tongue circling teasingly around, then sliding inside him, circling, probing, moving a little deeper but not deep enough.  David strained to move but could not.  He could only lie there, feeling a throbbing pressure building within, Sean’s tongue moving in and out.  At some point, two of Sean’s fingers replaced his tongue, probing slightly deeper in, twisting.  

Sean left his side, and David gritted his teeth, waiting.  He heard a drawer open, and then rattling.  Unbelieving, David opened his eyes and saw Sean pulling things out of a drawer in the coffee table, putting them on the table.  

David almost broke one of the rules, but luckily Viggo spoke first.

“In the &lt;i&gt;parlor&lt;/i&gt;?”

“My motto is always be prepared,” Sean said smugly.  “Saves having to improvise.”

“Wasn’t that the vicar’s wife who come for tea the last time I was here?”

“Yes.”

“And those were in that drawer then?  In the parlor?”

“Well, if not these, something similar.  Of course.”

Sean returned to the couch, his hands full.  David tried to relax as Sean leaned over him, slowly pushing a dildo inside, rocking it back and forth, pressing it down.

“Help me, Viggo.”  

They turned him over, and David arched up as his weight pressed the hardness inside him deeper.  Viggo’s hands descended onto his shoulders, and Sean leaned across his belly, pushing him down, leaning over to suck one nipple, to pinch the other between finger and thumb.   When David’s nipples were erect, Sean applied clamps.  

“Too much?” he asked, his hand on David’s chest.

David shook his head, not trusting his voice, glad  Sean didn’t have the vibrating ones Elijah’d found in New Zealand.  

Sean’s tongue and mouth began to work their way down David’s chest and stomach, dipping into his belly button.  Despite Viggo and Sean’s strength, David almost broke their hold then.  He was very ticklish there.  Sean rebalanced, then moved lower, teasing David, kissing and licking his lower belly and thighs, but never coming close to his trapped erection, sliding a hand under him to rock the dildo at times, but not enough, never long enough.  

David strained against their weight, against the harness, but could not move.  When he opened his mouth, he was stopped by Viggo’s kiss, another sensation pulling him under.  

Then Sean drew back, ordering Viggo to release David.  Moving up, Sean placed a hand on David’s cheek, turning his head to look into his eyes.  “David?  David, can you understand me?”

With difficulty, David focused his eyes on Sean, managed to speak, “Yes, master.”

“Can you do for me what you did for Viggo?”

Did for Viggo.  David concentrated a moment, then remembered.  Sean’s timing really sucked, he thought vaguely, but, “Yes, master,” he whispered.

“Good.”

Sean helped him sit up, slide off the couch, then sat down, spreading his legs.  David moved between his knees, took a bit longer to brace himself, and leaned forward.  Sean caressed his head and shoulders, then untied his pants himself.  David leaned forward, to lick, slowly, then suck, Sean.  He tilted his chin forward and head back, as Sean pumped his hips, pushing deep in David’s mouth, down his throat.  Timing his breathing was a little harder than with Viggo, but he managed.  Sean’s hands pulled his head forward, and he came, shuddering.

When Sean released him, David collapsed, trembling, leaning heavily against the couch, his head between Sean’s thighs.  

Sean, his hands still on David’s head, spoke to Viggo who had not moved from his corner of the couch.  

“Would you like to take him for a walk in the garden, love?” Sean asked.

“Yes.”

“You have my permission.”

Viggo moved then, rising and stepping forward to help David to stand.  Rather than using the leash, Viggo put an arm around his shoulders and directed him that way.  David, sweating and shaking, could take only short steps because of the bindings around his upper thighs, but Viggo walked slowly.

They went through the kitchen and the open glass doors to the garden.  The roses, heavy with scent, echoed the colors of a sky streaked red and pink and gold with the sunset.  David vaguely wondered what time it was.

Just outside the door, Viggo stopped, turned David to face him.  He took off the clamps first, rubbing David’s flesh as the blood returned, tingling. and started undoing straps.  

“Please...,” David whispered, head down.

“Sssh, love, it’s all right.”  Viggo released his arms, and undid the straps around his thighs, then shrugged, and pulled open all the ones he could find.  He coaxed David to raise his arms, and pulled the harness off, dropping it on a chair.  

Then he pulled David close, smoothing one hand down his back.  “What do you need?”

David shut his eyes, shaking.  His whole body ached, more pain than pleasure, but mixed with the pain, bleeding through it, was the sense of an incohate arousal, a need for intense resolution.  He stood in Viggo’s arms, head still down.  “Hammock. Fuck me.  Hard.”

It was only a few steps to the hammock, and Viggo tipped David in.  Stripping off the tight leather pants he wore, Viggo rolled in next to him.  David pulled Viggo down on top of him, wrapped his arms and legs around him, desperate.  Viggo took only the moment needed to pull the dildo out, position himself, and then thrust in, deep, pumping hard.  David pushed back,  seeking the quick release that, he dimly realized, Viggo must want as well after watching Sean and David.  

David felt Viggo come, moaned in frustration.  But Viggo’s hand enfolded him, warm and callused, rubbing, twisting, and David, finally, came, hot wetness between them.  They lay there as the sky darkened above them, silent, intertwined.

Finally, “Holy shit, Viggo” David whispered.  “What was that all about?”

He could feel Viggo’s laugh throughout his body.  “I’m afraid that it had a good deal to do with what happened the other night.”

“Oh.  That makes sense.”  A pause.  “Remind me never to get Sean mad at me, OK?”

“While I’m not sure ‘mad’ is the right word here, it’s not a bad idea.  But keep in mind that Sean’s complicated.  After all, he could gave denied us permission to go outside.”  Viggo rubbed David’s back, slowly.  “You could’ve stopped it again.  Sean would’ve honored the safeword.”

“I know, but...”

“But?”

David sighed.  “I didn’t even think about it. He’s so damn...mesmerizing at times.”

“Yes.”  

David felt himself beginning to slide toward sleep.  He yawned, then said, “I never thought I’d have an experience as intense as the one that night we were camping, but this came damn close.”

“Really?”  Viggo’s voice dropped, as did his hand.

David woke up a bit, cursed himself, wiggled back.  “Not that I want to set up any contest between you two, or have you try to top tonight anytime soon...”

Viggo laughed, patted David on the shoulder, and said “Relax.  The only place I’m going now is bed.”

He rolled out of the hammock and gave David a hand, pulling him up, tugging him toward the house.  David followed, obedient, but just before they went inside, he pulled back, halting them.  Viggo looked back, and David said, “But there’s always the next vacation...”

Viggo shook his head, laughed, and pulled him into the house.  “You’d just better hope Sean’s in the mood for sleep as well,” he said as they entered the kitchen.  
   
THE VACATION/KING

(“The best with the most. Some people refer to different writers as kings of different  
areas. King of throwups, king of style, king of a certain line, etc.”)

David wandered down the hall after his shower.  When he got to the kitchen, the clock confirmed his sense that it was late even for him.  Then again, yesterday had been...strenuous.  He saw that Viggo and Sean were sitting on the terrace, used dishes shoved aside, talking.  That was odd. Usually, they finished breakfast hours before he got up.  Then again, maybe this was lunch.  

He opened the door and leaned through.  “Any tea left, or should I make more?”

“Good afternoon to you, too,” Sean said, smiling at him.

David managed to nod back.  There was nothing good about the first hour or two after he woke up, and he didn’t much like people telling him there was.

Viggo checked the teapot, and said, “You’ll have to make more.  There’s some left, but it’s cold.”

“All right.”  David filled the kettle, went out to get the teapot, rinsed it, and slouched against the counter waiting for the water to come to a rolling boil.  He made the tea and carried the pot, along with a clean cup, out to the table.

As he waited for the tea to steep, he found some fruit and a couple of muffins left over.  Good enough.  He ate and made it through his first two cups of tea without hearing what Viggo and Sean were saying.

Pouring his third cup, he heard his name.

“I’ve done David.”

David looked up, vaguely curious about what Viggo meant.  “What?” he asked.

Viggo smiled at him.  “Photographed you.  For my private collection.”

“Oh.  Yeah.  So?”

Sean spread his hands, frowning, “So he wants to photograph both of us.”

“Oh.”  David drank more tea, shrugged.  “What’s the problem?”

Viggo spoke before Sean could.  “Sean would never agree to be photographed.”

Now David was confused.  He’d seen Viggo’s wall in New Zealand, and while the range of subjects was astronomical, there had been many images of Sean, Sean as Boromir, Sean himself, Sean with others. He poured another cup of tea.

“For my private collection,” Viggo continued.  “Just as I refused, before, to play any of Sean’s games.”

Sean continued to frown, tilting his chair back.  “You make it sound like I owe you this, but I think the photography is different than the games.  A lot riskier.  I don’t like the idea of a bunch of nudie shots floating around.  Who knows where they might show up?  That could ruin a career, it has before.”

“As I’ve explained,” Viggo said, “I do the developing myself.  Negatives and prints are kept in a locked file cabinet.  These pictures aren’t going to be ‘floating around.’”

David shrugged, feeling the tea finally starting to work.  He hadn’t known Viggo did his own developing, hadn’t thought to ask back in New Zealand.  But it made sense given the nature of the poses.

“I don’t know,” he said.  “Even if something happened, which seems unlikely, would it really be a problem?  I did some work as a model for art classes a few years back, so there are probably quite a few nude drawings of me out there.”  He sipped tea, thought a minute.  “Although I suppose, given the abilities of most of the students, you probably couldn’t recognize me in most of them..”

“I admit,” Sean said with a certain grimness.  “You could probably pass off nude photos of one person as art shots.  But with two of us?”

“I’ll just make sure that your faces are not visible,” Viggo said.  “As I did with David.  Easily done, especially with two models.  As I said before...”

David detected a certain note in Viggo’s voice.  “How long have you been talking about this,” he asked.

“Too long,” Viggo said.  

Silence.

Then Sean asked, “What do you think, David?”

“I said yes before.  I’d do it again,” David said.  Posing for photographs had sounded more exciting than it turned out to be.  The process was boring, but he’d seen the prints from his session and had admired the marriage of sensuality and beauty in Viggo’s work.

“You don’t worry about what might happen?”

David shrugged.  “All sorts of things MIGHT happen,” he said.  “I trust Viggo.”  For one thing, Viggo had not offered to show him pictures of anyone else in his private collection.

Sean’s chair thumped down and he glared impartially at David and Viggo.  “Shit.”  He took a deep breath, and continued, his voice rising on each word, “Shit shit shit shit shit shit shit shit SHIT.”  

He leaped to his feet, toppling his chair.  “I’ll do it.  But if anything happens, I’m going to track YOU down,” he pointed at David, “and tear you limb from limb.  And YOU,” he pointed at Viggo, who smiled calmly back at him, “I’ll have to think a while to figure out what I’ll do to you.  But it will be,” a pause, “catastrophic and conclusive.”  

He stormed inside.  

Silence descended upon the garden except for the fountain.

David looked at Viggo.  “Would ‘mad’ be the right word now?” he asked.

Viggo said, “I think so.”

“Shit.”  David decided he needed more tea.  He stood up to go inside to make it.  “This is all your fault, you know,” he told Viggo.

Viggo shook his head.  “No, I don’t.  In fact, I think it’s yours, if you must assign blame.”

David dropped back into his chair.  “What?”

“I was never able to talk Sean into agreeing to pose for my private collection.  Just as he was never able to talk me into playing games.  You were the one who upped the stakes when you said you trusted me.  You might not have meant to challenge him, but you did.”  Viggo smiled kindly at him.

David put his head down his arms. “Oh no, oh shit, oh no.”  He knew he should never talk to anybody until at least two hours after he woke up.  

“Don’t worry too much,” Viggo said cheerfully.  “Sean never stays mad long.”

David stood, picked up the teapot, and went to the door, turning to deliver his parting shot.  “Maybe not.  But apparently he’s big on getting even.  And I notice that you’re going to be nice and safe behind the camera.”  

But as he turned back, he couldn’t help hearing Viggo say, “Don’t forget you can always use the safeword, David.”

David carefully did not slam the door when he went inside.

* * * * * * *

They were in the garden to take advantage of the afternoon light.  Nothing was happening quite as David had feared.  Sean was being reasonable, even pleasant.  But posing with Sean was more difficult than he’d expected.

Besides the modeling for the art class, David had become used to acting in the nude during the filming of &lt;i&gt;Better Than Sex&lt;/i&gt;.  That film had required a number of nude scenes and a good deal of simulated sex.  So he hadn’t thought that posing with Sean would be that different.  

He soon learned how wrong he’d been.

Filming any  scene meant multiple people standing around with equipment.  Even when nude or sex scenes are done, while a director may clear out as many bystanders as possible to make it easier on the actors, there are likely to be more people off camera than on.  

David had gotten used to working naked in front of a crowd, but that crowd consisted of people he was NOT having sex with.  And he and Susie had not been involved.  They’d become good friends during the filming, still saw each other once in a while, but they didn’t have any physical relationship off camera.  

Here, he was working with Sean and Viggo.  And Viggo was a photographer who didn’t mind a hands-on approach.  Unlike the time he’d posed alone, this shoot was not proving to be boring. Not with Sean in such close proximity.

David lay on his back in the grass, Sean leaning over and on him.  Viggo knelt next to them, moving them into the pose he wanted.  He stood, moved back to view the pose, and returned.

“Sean, hands here.”  Viggo guided Sean’s hands to David’s upper arms.  Sean was lying between David’s legs, supporting himself on his arms,  and against David, their lower bodies pressed together.  

“Leg up, David.”  Viggo’s warm hand on his ankle and thigh bent his leg up, angling across Sean’s waist, bisecting the curve of Sean’s body.

David shuddered.  Yesterday had left him sensitized to touch, so he was rapidly becoming painfully aroused.  David shut his eyes, so he wasn’t staring into Sean’s, and tried to do yoga breathing.  But the inhalations brought him into closer contact with Sean who pressed down on him.  

“Hold still,” Viggo said, rising to get his camera.  He then spent what seemed like an hour taking shots from multiple angles.  David tried to relax and not breathe.

For the next pose, Viggo had Sean lie face down on the stone bench, arms trailing down.  As Sean moved to the bench, David noticed that he wasn’t in quite as bad a shape as David was.    
He shut his eyes as Viggo positioned him at an angle, lying mostly on top of Sean, half-kneeling beside the bench, his face pressing against Sean’s neck.  

The pose evoked a strong sense memory of the other night, Viggo moving him behind Sean, the feeling of Sean beneath him.  David gritted his teeth and started going through the multiplication table.  He wasn’t sure how much time passed as Viggo took his shots, but when he got stuck in nine times, he started fantasizing again about punching Viggo.

After Viggo told them he was done and started loading new film into his camera, Sean spoke.  “Viggo, tequila, time out, whatever—I want to talk.  And I bet David does too.”

David lifted himself carefully away from Sean and sat on the ground, back braced against the bench, knees up, circling his knees with his arms. “Talking is not exactly what I want to do, but yes, I’d like a break.”

Viggo set his loaded camera carefully on the table and sat cross-legged on the grass near the bench.  He looked confused.  “What’s wrong?”

Sean swung around on the bench to sit up, his leg resting against David’s side, and said, “This.”  

Viggo paused a moment, then said, “Oh.”

“You ever worked with two lovers as models for this private collection before?”

“No,” Viggo said, slowly, “I never have.”

“Well you might be thinking light and angles and shapes and art, but I’m lying here thinking that in two minutes I’m going to have to grab David and fuck him senseless if this goes on any longer.”

David curled in on himself a little tighter as Sean’s hand rested on his shoulder. Yes please.  

“So you didn’t intend or plan this.....response?  It isn’t part of some game?”  Sean demanded.  

“No.  We can stop now if you want.”

David thought Viggo looked a little regretful, but he spoke without hesitation.  David decided he wouldn’t try to punch Viggo after all.  

“Maybe,” Sean said.  “Or maybe we can try something else.  You can still get your pictures, but your models won’t be suffering.”  

“What?”

“The problem is you put us together in a way that feels like we’re having sex but we’re not, and we just have to lie there while you take pictures.  Why not take pictures of the real thing?  Why just simulate it?”

David sat straighter, shocked.  “You’re kidding,” he said.  

“Nope.”

David looked at Viggo, expecting immediate disagreement, but Viggo was sitting there, staring off into the distance.  “Interesting idea,” he said.

“Forget it,” David said flatly.  The mere thought had solved his earlier problem.  The only thing he felt was apprehension.

Sean’s hand circled on David’s back, trailed around his neck and under his chin to tilt his head back.  Green eyes stared down at him.  “I’ve seen &lt;i&gt;Better Than Sex&lt;/i&gt;, David, “ Sean said softly, and grinned.  “Quite a few times in fact.  Are you ashamed of that film?  Of what you did as an actor?”

“No, but, but that wasn’t real!” David protested.  “This is different.”

“It looked real.  People watching it will think it’s real, will convince themselves it is, or it wouldn’t be much of a film.  I certainly did.”  Sean’s hand trailed down David’s chest, and David felt himself hardening again.  “How is this different?  What do you think most people looking at Viggo’s pictures of us would think we were doing?”

There was only one answer to Sean’s second question, so David didn’t answer it.  Unfortunately, he couldn’t come up with a good answer to the first question either.  “Viggo?” he said, hoping he would have an answer.

Viggo looked through them.  “I’d have to use a faster film, so we’d have to be inside.  Too much light outdoors.  I think I have film that would work, although I’ve never done this before, so...it’s an interesting challenge.  A lot of the shots wouldn’t come out, but those that did might be...unusual.”

David closed his eyes.  Sean did have creative ways of getting even, he thought.

“David, Viggo was watching us, yesterday, and during our Boromir/Farmer scene.  Did you mind that?”

“No,” David said, knowing where this was going, but not able to think of anything to say to stop it.

“You obviously didn’t mind him taking photographs of us simulating sex, at least as far as I could tell.”  Sean pulled David closer, leaned over him.  “And since we can trust Viggo never to show these pictures to anyone else, whether the sex is real or fake,” Sean’s whispered in David’s ear, “why not do it.”

David let his head fall back against Sean’s thigh.  Opening his eyes, looking directly into Sean’s, he spoke softly.  “Sean, sometimes you are such a prick.”

Sean laughed, gave him a quick hug before releasing him, and said, “Thank you!  What do you say?”

David reminded himself again NEVER to get Sean mad at him.  “All right,” he said.  “I’m willing to give it a try.  But the safeword still applies, right?”

“Of course!”

* * * * * * *

Inside the spare bedroom which had no pictures on the walls or anything else that could identify it, Viggo insisted that the bed be cleared of covers and pillows, leaving just the blue bottom sheet.  David sat cross-legged on the bed while Viggo and Sean debated the issue of restraints.  Viggo won, so Sean put them away a bit sulkily.  

Sean came out of the closet and closed the door.  “There’s just one more thing,” he said.  “Viggo, you have to take your clothes off too.”

Viggo stared at Sean a moment.  “You’re kidding,” he said.

“Nope.  Think about it--models nude, photographer fully dressed.  Such an imbalance of power.  It only seems fair.”

Viggo shook his head, opened his mouth to speak, but Sean interrupted.  “Besides, we’re inside,” he said.  “David, don’t you agree?”

David shook his head, scooted back.  “Leave me out of it,” he said.

Sean sat on the edge of the bed, stared at Viggo.  “Strip or no deal,” he said.

Viggo thought a moment, shrugged, set his camera down, and took off his clothes.  “Satisfied?” he asked Sean.

“Perfectly.  Shoot at will.”

Sean moved across the bed to David’s side, put his hands on his shoulders, gently tilting him back.  David stretched out his legs, lying on his back, uncomfortably aware of the camera Viggo was holding.  Sean stretched out beside him, hand on his chest.  “Shut your eyes,” he said.

David did.  That helped.

He relaxed even more as Sean kissed him, at first with no more contact than his hand and mouth.  David felt Sean move over him, sliding a hand under his arm, encouraging David to lift his arms over his head where Sean held them.  Sean’s knee slid between David’s legs parting them, then David felt Sean’s weight settle between his legs, on his body.  The pose was similar to the first one Viggo had placed them in,  so David raised his leg.  Sean’s other hand was not on his arms.  Instead, Sean held David’s head, fingers deep in his hair, tilting his head back.  

David jumped as Sean’s tongue circled in his ear.  “You can’t move, David,” Sean whispered.  

David strained, excited, testing Sean’s strength.  He thought, if he really fought, he could probably break Sean’s hold on his wrists, but where would the fun in that be.  He twisted against Sean who began to kiss him again, roughly forcing his mouth open, nearly bruising him.  As the kiss went on, David tried to pull away, to catch his breath, but Sean held his head  and continued the kiss.  Finally, Sean released him for a moment, but after a breath or two, kissed him again.  And again.  David began to wonder, a bit dimly, if he might pass out.  

Sean rolled back onto the bed, still holding David’s arms, but shifting his weight to the side and pulling at David until he rolled over.  Sean lay on top of David, holding his arms down, again forcing his legs apart.  Sean’s full weight came down onto David who could feel his erection.  David tried to thrust back, but Sean did not move, continued holding David down.  

David began to wonder what the difference was from Viggo’s poses. What was Sean thinking.  He tried to twist out from under Sean, but he easily kept David under him.

Sean whispered in his ear, “Nobody on this bed is going to get to come unless Viggo joins us.  Ask him,” Sean shifted onto his side, pulling David up and over with him, arms around his body.

Lying on his side, Sean pressed against his back, David opened his eyes.  He saw Viggo drop the camera as their faces came into view.  David was only vaguely surprised to see Viggo’s erection, wondering if that was always a problem when taking photographs for his private collection.

David didn’t speak, but he held out his hand to Viggo who stood, looking at them.  After a moment, Viggo set the camera down, came forward to take David’s hand, letting David pull him down onto the bed.

Viggo stretched out on the bed, sliding closer, until his body was pressed full-length against David’s.  Sliding an arm under David’s head, he kissed first David, then, leaning over him, Sean.

“And now?” Viggo said.

“Now what?”  

David, warm between two strong bodies, shut his eyes, indicating he wanted no part of the conversation.  He just hoped it didn’t take them long to settle things.

“You must have something in mind.”

Sean’s voice dripped innocence.  “Me?  What makes you think I’m giving the orders here.”

“One, experience.  Two, we’re inside.”

“True.”  A pause.  “But I hadn’t really thought much beyond getting you out behind the camera and on the bed.  Why don’t we just improvise?”

David relaxed as hands and mouths moved over his body until he felt he could not tell where his skin ended and theirs began.  

* * * * * * *

Some time later, in the silence of the darkening room, Sean spoke.

“Maybe we need to get a video camera for next time,” he said thoughtfully.

David spoke, hearing Viggo at the same time.  “No, Sean.”

“Well, we can talk about it.  Later.”

“No.”

  
THE VACATION/DOWN (2)

(“To be in with, part of the group or action (as in "he's down with us"). Part of your connection, if you are down with someone.”)

 * * * * * * *

David walked into the kitchen to find Sean making tea.  Going to clear a pile of Viggo’s books and papers off the table, he saw that the roses had dropped most of their petals during the night.  Still vibrant, the petals were scattered, red and gold mixed.  He brushed them into a fragrant pile.

Sean came over.  “These are dead,” he said.  “Could you cut another bunch?”

“Sure.”

Sean picked up the vase and carried it to the sink, pulling out the dead flowers and putting them into a garbage can.  He tossed David a pair of clippers.  

David went out into the garden.  Wandering through the beds, he decided to choose a different range of colors than the reds and golds.  He selected whites and the palest of pinks.  Then, his hands full, walking back to the house, he saw that the climbing roses on the trellis had come into bloom, an amazing deep velvety red, a red so dark it was almost black.  He couldn’t resist, and cut one.

Inside, he set the roses on the counter and started trimming them and placing them in the vase full of fresh water Sean had left.  As he carefully inserted the single crimson one into the middle, he felt a piercing pain in his finger.  “Shit!”  

“What’s wrong?” Sean came up behind him, and David jumped.

“Nothing.  A thorn.”

“Let’s see.”  Sean picked up his hand, inspected it, then, pulling David closer by tugging on his hand, he raised David’s finger to his mouth.  Sean started sucking his finger, tongue probing the slight wound, green eyes wicked..

David’s breath left his lungs, and he grabbed at the counter with his other hand.

Sean’s warm mouth released him.  Inspecting the finger, Sean said,  “Not a major injury.”

David wanted to contradict him, but wasn’t sure he could speak.  He thought he might have gotten himself into something he couldn’t get out of.

Sean continued.  “That’s the trouble with roses.  No matter how carefully you handle them, you end up wounded. See?”  He released David and extended his hands. David could see the scattering of small puncture marks , some older, some newer.

“Which is no doubt why there is a tradition of love poetry featuring roses dating back over five centuries, mostly focusing on wounds and loss,” Viggo said from the doorway.  

David turned from the counter, caught by the sound of Viggo’s voice, the look on Viggo’s face.  After a moment, David carried the vase over to the table and sat.  Viggo joined him.  

“It’s all the same in literature,” David said after a moment.  “Love poetry.  Tolkien.  It’s all over the place--love lost, death.  The Fellowship breaks up.  A brother dies.  Even Aragorn and Arwen don’t get a happy ending.  I finally read the appendices.”

“Yes,” said Viggo.  “It’s all the same. The roses die.”

Sean brought the tea to the table.  “They’re just flowers,” he said.  “The old ones die, new ones bloom.  Aren’t you making too much of this?”


End file.
